


In the palm of your hand

by Lilibet



Series: October 2020 prompts [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand & Finger Kink, Jinnobi Challenge 2020, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon is as whipped as cream, Sexy fruit eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: Revenge is not something to be associated with Obi-Wan, but there is a dangerous streak in him that Qui-Gon admits sends a thrill down his spine. But right now, in the middle of the commissary, it’s heat that slips down his spine instead.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: October 2020 prompts [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949062
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	In the palm of your hand

**Author's Note:**

> For the flufftober day 19 prompt "handholding". I blame the quiobi discord server for enabling this entire fic. Heathens, the lot of 'em.

Qui-Gon should never underestimate Obi-Wan. If it was a singular occurrence, he’d forgive himself for it, but he continually makes this same mistake. Often, Obi-Wan _wants_ to be underestimated, and Qui-Gon knows this, yet still he manages to be fooled by the façade.

Revenge is not something to be associated with Obi-Wan, but there is a dangerous streak in him that Qui-Gon admits sends a thrill down his spine. But right now, in the middle of the commissary, it’s heat that slips down his spine instead.

This is Obi-Wan’s revenge, and _oh_ , Qui-Gon wants to be consumed by it.

Obi-Wan’s eating a fruit. Qui-Gon couldn’t tell you what fruit it is, except that it’s exceptionally ripe and juicy as Obi-Wan bites into it. The sticky, sugary juice spills down his chin, running in rivulets down his fingers to pool in his palm. Considering the mess it’s making, Obi-Wan would normally grab a cloth or napkin to clean himself up, or not get into this sticky mess in the first place, and the fact that he doesn’t is what clues Qui-Gon into the fact that this is intentional. Instead, Obi-Wan moves the fruit to his other hand and licks the errant juice where it’s slipping down the delicate skin of his inner wrist, before following it up to lap at the nectar in his palm.

He trails his tongue up to his fingers, sinfully wrapping it around each one and sucking off the juice in a far more sensual manner than is proper for the middle of the commissary. And all the while he never takes his eyes off Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon’s own fruit lies forgotten in his hand, a single bite taken out of it as he stares slack jawed at the performance across from him. And it’s definitely a performance, one made solely for Qui-Gon and he would be remiss to look away from one such as this for even a moment.

When Obi-Wan has cleaned himself to his satisfaction, albeit with a sticky sheen still covering his lips, he sets his eyes on Qui-Gon’s fruit.

“Oh dear, it seems you’ve made a mess too. Here, let me clean you up.” His voice is sickly sweet with innocence, and it takes Qui-Gon far too long to draw his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s fingers to his face, and longer still to realise what he’s about to do in time to stop it. Although he’s uncertain whether he actually would, had he known.

Obi-Wan plucks the fruit from Qui-Gon’s fingers and places it down on his plate, before wrapping his slender fingers around Qui-Gon’s wrist. Qui-Gon’s eyes widen in realisation as Obi-Wan pulls his hand to his mouth, placing a tingling featherlight kiss on the inside of Qui-Gon’s wrist.

He licks a wet stripe up Qui-Gon’s palm, where Qui-Gon notes there is absolutely no juice, and carries on up to his index finger. He laps the tiny amount of juice off the tip of it, before engulfing it in the warm wet heat of his mouth. Qui-Gon suppresses a groan as Obi-Wan swirls his tongue around the digit, and he shifts in his seat.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan sucks, _hard_ , and Qui-Gon’s cock twitches in his pants and a low heat begins to curl in his gut. Obi-Wan grins mischievously around the finger in his mouth and leisurely pulls off, a string of saliva connecting his lips with the tip. Qui-Gon’s utterly enraptured.

Obi-Wan gives him a wink and moves onto the next finger.

The heat in Qui-Gon’s gut rapidly builds to a fire that threatens to consume him as Obi-Wan continues his worship of his fingers. He surreptitiously casts a glance around them, but it seems no-one’s noticed the fact that Qui-Gon’s fingers are practically getting a blowjob and that he’s about several short minutes away from orgasm just from Obi-Wan sucking on his damn fingers.

His eyes snap back to Obi-Wan when he feels the scrape of teeth up his finger and Obi-Wan nibbles at the tip.

“Stop,” Qui-Gon says huskily.

Obi-Wan pulls off and looks at Qui-Gon expectantly, his thumb distractingly rubbing his wrist.

Qui-Gon clears his throat. “Quarters. Now.”

Obi-Wan grins like a predator, all teeth and no mercy that makes Qui-Gon shiver, and relinquishes Qui-Gon’s hand back to him. He feels a keen loss at the sudden lack of contact. They stand together, Qui-Gon’s movements decidedly jerkier than Obi-Wan’s smooth ones. He doesn’t even return his tray, simply turning on the spot and marching out of the commissary, not even checking that Obi-Wan is following him yet knowing with certainty that he is.

By the time they reach their quarters, Qui-Gon is nearly at the end of his endurance, practically vibrating out of his skin with need. He stands dumbly in the middle of the room, suddenly unsure, until Obi-Wan pushes him down into a chair and easily slides to his knees in between Qui-Gon’s legs.

He feels breathless as he watches. Obi-Wan may be the one on his knees, but Qui-Gon knows exactly who is in charge, and it’s definitely not him. He trails his fingers across Obi-Wan’s cheek, rubs the tips over his plush lips, and Obi-Wan opens his mouth so prettily to take them back into the wet warmth of his mouth.

This time, Qui-Gon does groan. It’s loud in the quiet of the room, and he digs his nails into the armrest to try and wrestle back some semblance of control. It’s a lost cause. Obi-Wan knows exactly how to take Qui-Gon apart, piece by excruciating piece until he’s a drooling incoherent mess. And he does it with the simplest of actions.

Obi-Wan’s tongue is hot and wet as he slides it into the junctures between his fingers, working at it as though he’s eating a lollipop. He pulls back to suck in a second finger and hollows out his cheeks, flicking his eyes up to meet Qui-Gon’s as he takes them in deep.

Qui-Gon presses down on the tongue under his fingers, feeling it quiver as he rubs along it. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, happily sucking on the fingers in his mouth, face the picture of bliss as obscene sucking noises fill the room. Saliva coats his lips and around his mouth, dripping down his chin. Qui-Gon’s entranced by the debauched display.

With his rapidly dwindling wherewithal, Qui-Gon draws the force to him, concentrating it into his arm and sending it down to his fingers. The sudden flood of sensation that explodes and spreads back up his arm is overwhelming, and he gasps and pants against the devastating sensitivity that assaults his senses.

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap open, and Qui-Gon knows he’s been caught. He bites the end of Qui-Gon’s fingers in reprimand, the pain pleasure shooting up his arm and straight down his spine to his cock. He’s been hard as a rock from the moment they entered the room, the moment Obi-Wan slid to his knees in front of him, but now his pants feel as wet around his cock as Obi-Wan’s mouth does around his fingers.

The reprimand is hardly an invitation to stop, and he extends the force into Obi-Wan. It trails from his fingertips into his mouth and Qui-Gon knows when Obi-Wan feels the enhanced sensitivity, because his hips buck against the air and he whines around his fingers, the vibration reverberating against Qui-Gon’s sensitised fingers.

Obi-Wan takes a third finger into his mouth, his lips spread obscenely around the digits as he refocuses, licking and sucking them with renewed vigour. Qui-Gon’s orgasm is coiling into a white hot ball of pleasure in his hips, Obi-Wan’s too if the erratic jerking of his hips and the beautiful flush high on his cheeks is any indication, and he’s half amazed half disbelieving at the fact he’s going to orgasm from just this alone.

And _oh_ , when the pleasure hits, it’s devastating. Spreading out from his fingers, cock jerking in his pants, the pleasure extending on and on until he’s mindless with it.

When he comes back to himself, he peels his eyes open to look down at Obi-Wan. His eyes are closed, expression the picture of ecstasy as his hips twitch with the pleasurable aftershock of his own orgasm. He’s still gently sucking on Qui-Gon’s fingers as though he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

When his eyes eventually flicker open, he automatically finds Qui-Gon’s gaze. Obi-Wan lets the fingers slip from his mouth and Qui-Gon trails them over his plush swollen lips, marvelling at what just happened. They stare at each other for a long moment, Qui-Gon’s mind empty of everything except Obi-Wan, before they both move at the same time.

Qui-Gon pulls Obi-Wan to him as Obi-Wan moves to straddle his legs, the sudden urge to taste those lips overtaking everything else. They’re wet and warm, the kiss sloppy as he licks into Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Distantly, Qui-Gon realises something.

Obi-Wan was eating jogan fruit.


End file.
